SAW: Metamorphosis
by G-girls
Summary: Leader, teacher, master, father....student, daughter, follower, apprentice. Lovers. A fill in the blanks fan fiction delving as deep into the characters and relationship of John and Amanda. Strong JohnAmanda elements, as well as horror and gore due to tra
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Ever since I saw the second SAW film, I believed there was a strong connection between John and Amanda, that there was something very deep and unspoken there. After seeing the third film, my suspicions were confirmed more than I could have ever hoped for. Being an avid John/Amanda shipper, I present to you _SAW: Metamorphosis_, a fill-in-the-blank fanfiction delving as deep into the characters of John and Amanda and their relationship as I possibly can. I hope that you enjoy it. Please read and review! Criticism is every writer's best friend and worst enemy. **

**Jeff, Lynn, John, and Amanda are copywright and property of Twisted Pictures, Liongate, Leigh Whannell, and James Wan. They do not belong to me. The writing belongs to me 100. **

**PROLOGUE**

"...I forgive you. I forgive you, you bastard!"

The buzzing of the saw suddenly filled the small make-shift "hospital" room, and the middle aged man, deranged from the past 24 hours or so, ran headlong into his self-destruction. Pale jaws that still had the stubble from the morning quivered in anger, his teeth clenched, his cut cheek was beginning to swell with the first signs of infection. Madness gleamed in his eyes, and he succumbed to his vengeance completely, without a second thought. It would be his downfall, but whether he realized it or not did not matter. He had made his choice and did not give a damn. With one quick stroke, the blade sliced cleanly into the bedridden man's neck, and blood poured forth as if from a fountain, an elixir of life. A small gasp, maybe, his pale blue eyes widening with just the tiniest bit of surprise, but that was all.

Jeff's shoulders heaved as he turned the saw off, an insane smile of triumph on his face. He had at last gotten revenge on them all. All of those who had wronged him were dead. This man's death meant only that he and Lynn could go home to their daughter and continue living their lives in peace. The fucker looked like he was ready to drop dead anyway when he showed up, so why did it matter?

His mind briefly caught the sound of the man's heart rate on the monitor begin to slow down, and the old man's hand rose slowly to press the PLAY button of a tape recorder. His voice filled the small room with a deafening intensity, and he couldn't even hear Lynn's sobs and cries of desperation as he heard the familiar voice from before ellicit from the tape recorder, and he felt a lump rise in his throat. _Dear God, what have I done...? _He thought in abject horror.

John paid no attention to his voice coming from the tape recorder, or Jeff's shock. They had made their own choices, all of them. He couldn't have stopped them, couldn't have given them any more than he had. Forgiveness was denied him, and although it left a heavy burden on his heart, the death of Amanda was more painful. He had tried so hard to save her. He had already broken part of the rules by helping her. He had warned her, had encouraged her. John would never have done such a thing for just anyone. But he would have done it for her...he would have done all he could for her, and he did. But she didn't listen. It became too much for her, and she...

_How did it come to this? _he thought, taking a rasping breath. His heart was broken...he felt sick. Sicker than he ever had. He knew death was coming, and let memories wash over him. _How did we get here? _

John closed his eyes and let himself remember...remember when one woman had changed his life, more than she could ever know.


	2. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This would be chapter one! Thank you for your kind reviews! The story will be more fast-paced eventually, for now, though, this is just to get a feel for the characters. I hope I'm doing John and Amanda justice. **

**Once again, John and Amanda belong to Twisted Pictures, Lionsgate, James Wan, and Leigh Whannell. Not me. **

ONE

Amanda groaned, her head lolling slightly forward as she came to. She felt wierd, as if she were waking up during a very uncomfortable nap while in a car on a road trip. Her dark eyes blinked, and her brows furrowed, staring at her fish net stockings as if seeing them for the first time. Something felt wrong...her head felt heavy. _Did I get drunk? _she wondered. She sat up slightly and made to leave her seat, when the feel of cloth restraints on her wrists came to her attention. She looked up, and confusion began to turn into panic. Tears filled her eyes as she struggled, trying to break free of her bonds, barely registering her strange surroundings. Two overhead lights cast a foreboding light throughout the room. The floor and walls were dirty and dusty from abandonment, and dark shadows leading to nowhere and everywhere waited expectantly in the distance. She could taste blood and metal in her mouth and she tried to scream, but it came out all muffled.

The click and buzz of a television screen turning on caught her attention, and she turned in her seat to see a television several feet from her, the static clearing to show the sight of a puppet. The television pigmentation was a morbid black and white, but it didn't stop that damned thing from being creepy. It had spirals on its cheeks, dark eyes, black hair, and wore a small dress suit. Its crude mouth opened, and a distorted voice echoed throughout the room. "Hello, Amanda," it began. "You do not know me, but I know you. I want to play a game."

Amanda felt sick. She knew there was only one person who would do anything like this: Jigsaw. Oh, she had heard of him all right. His last two victims had been the subject of a couple of newspaper articles a couple of years ago. Sure, he wasn't headline-world-breaking-news, but everyone knew him. Everyone would take an extra glance over their shoulders when walking home in the dark and lock their doors and windows just to be safe. He was not a major concern, but in the back of everyone's minds, the fear and worry was still there. Jigsaw was still at large, and that frightened people, although they would never admit it.

_Why me? What did I do? _she thought. She wanted to scream at the television screen and demand that he tell her _why _he was doing this to her. Sure, she was a druggie. She did heroin like there was no tomorrow, but...that didn't mean she had to die, did it? She had no time to second-guess her thoughts, because that bone-chilling voice was speaking again.

"The device you are wearing is hooked into your upper and lower jaw. When the timer in the back goes off, your mouth will be permanently ripped open. Think of it like a...reverse bear trap. Here, I'll show you." The puppet moved to the side to show a mannequin's head, the heavy metal device which was obviously on her at the moment, on its own head. A few seconds passed, and the trap went off, completely mutilating the dummy's head. Amanda gasped, her eyes widening in horror as the sight sunk in. _Oh my god. Oh my god. I'm going to die, _she thought, terrified. She was scared shitless.

"There is only one key to open the device. It is in the stomach of your dead cellmate. Look around, Amanda. Know that I'm not lying. Better hurry up. Live or die: make your choice." The puppet was finished, and the television began to fizz with static once again, but she didn't give a fuck about the sound of the television. She could hear the clock behind her head ticking. She didn't have much time.

The most peculiar sensation began to kick in as she struggled against her bonds frantically, the cloth beginning to loosen, the timer click-clicking all the while. Every nerve in her body was on edge, and a huge surge of energy and rush of adrenaline flowed through her veins as she finally managed to get her hands free. She jumped to her feet, her hands reaching up to feel the metal trap on her head. It felt cold and unfeeling, like death. She staggered forward, an unseen force making her run around the perimeter of the room, searching for this "cellmate" of hers...She couldn't see him, and time was running out! Her breath was coming out quickly in panicked gasps, and madness was just around the bend as she whirled around, her eyes searching in desperation.

Her eyes widened as she found him. There he was, in the right-most corner. She approached him slowly, cautiously, gazing at him curiously. He wore a gray t-shirt, jeans, and no shoes, and as she neared him, she stifled a gasp. She knew that face, she knew this man! Lying before her was Christopher, her drug dealer. She had known him for quite some time, and he was the only one she ever went to for her heroine. He always gave her the best, and was actually pretty nice as far as drug dealers went. Tears ran down her cheeks as she began to cry, kneeling down in front of him. With shaking hands, she lifted his shirt to find a dark green question mark painted on Chris's stomach. A knife lay next to him, waiting to be used expectantly.

Could she do this? Could she end another human being's life to save her own? Would she kill this man who had a pregnant fiancee whom he was planning to marry in a month? The tape had said "dead cellmate". Chris was dead. She would not be killing him. It would be okay, then. It would be okay...

Her trembling hands grasped the knife handle tightly, raising it up above her head, her sobs the only sound other than the ticking. Amanda's heart nearly stopped as Chris groaned, his eyes opening slightly. He wasn't dead! He was still alive! She nearly dropped the knife, but something primal kept her grip on it tight as her sobs increased. Screaming, Amanda slashed down, cutting his stomach open. She stabbed him over and over again, his startled cries deaf to her ears as she managed to cut a big enough opening. She threw the knife to the side and dug her hands in his stomach, pulling out his intestines. Blood covered her hands, but that primal urge, that force that was controlling all of her actions drove her to dig and search. She reached in as deep as her hand could go, bile rising up in her throat. The feel of something metal against her fingers made her heart beat faster, pumping more blood into her system as she deliriously pulled the key out. Her grip on it was slippery, but she had it.

The ticking began to go faster, and Amanda screamed over and over again as she reached behind her, her arms shaking convulsively. Her hand found the padlock and she attempted to unlock it, but her grip slipped. The ticking increased ever faster, and she tried again, her chest heaving. So little time...!

The key was in. One quick twist was all it took to have the padlock unlock itself. Amanda practically ripped the padlock off, gripping the sides of the bear trap with both hands, and throwing it to the floor as far away from her as possible. Within seconds of hitting the floor, the trap went off. Amanda's shoulders raked with sobs as she nearly collapsed to the floor, the adrenaline rush fading as quickly as it had come, that primal drive receding back into the recesses of her mind. She let the tears come, let the relief wash over her. _I'm alive. I beat the game. I'm alive. I did it. I'm the only one to have done it. I'm alive. I'm alive, _she kept repeating to herself in her mind over and over again.

A creaking noise brought her from out of her thoughts, and her head snapped up, her body tensing. _Please, don't let that be another trap, _she thought, fear beginning to rise in her stomach again. Out of the shadows across from her came a tricycle, the same puppet from the video riding on it. Her eyes narrowed, and she waited. Finally, the puppet's mouth opened and that distorted voice spoke once more. "Congratulations. You are still alive. Most people are so ungrateful to be alive. But not you. Not anymore."

_Yeah, no shit! _she wanted to scream at the thing, but something told her to get moving. Mustering what strength she had left, Amanda rose to her feet and passed the dead body of Chris. She turned away from him in regret, ashamed of what she had done, but glad at the same time. She had killed another man, but she was alive. She did it! She had beaten one of Jigsaw's games! She had done what others could not. There would be no puzzle peice carved in her skin today.

Amanda walked past the puppet uneasily, keeping a wide berth. That thing creeped her out, and she was very glad when she was past it. She began to run blindly through corridors, realizing blankly that she was in a large abandoned warehouse. She ran through corridors, trying to find her way, when at last she found a door. She pushed it open, and the sun blinded her eyes. It was daylight, and the sounds of the bustling city assaulted her ears. Panting, Amanda looked this way and that, finally tearing down the street as fast as she could. 

John slid the door open. He had been sitting in this room in front of the camera monitors watching Amanda play her game. He had been delightfully surprised when he had seen her cut her drug dealer's stomach open. It wasn't that he enjoyed murder, oh no. He despised murderers, in fact, but it was interesting to see to what lengths people would go to to save their own lives. His feet echoed on the stone floor as he picked up his puppet and the tricycle, bringing it back into the room. He flexed his gloved hands as he went back into the room, the coppery smell of blood reaching him. Bending over, he narrowed his eyes, taking a good look at the dead man in front of him. This had been Christopher Hammeln's game just as much as it was hers. This man had a beautiful fiancee, a child on the way, a decent apartment in this shithole of a city where people threw their lives away. _He _had thrown his life away. His fiancee did not know that he was a drug dealer, that the majority of their income came from him selling and buying the drugs that addicts desperately wanted and needed. She was completely in the dark, and it disgusted him that this man should succeed at life and have everything one could hope for at the expense of others. Others like Amanda.

Amanda Young...he remembered her well. Smart and with a quick tongue. An interesting young woman with only one downfall: her addiction to heroin. She was throwing her life away, just as Christopher had done. But he had helped her. He had broken that habit once and for all, he was sure of it. Now Amanda could be the beautiful witty girl he had met in the hospital all the time. Never again would she take anything for granted. Never again.

His time was running out. He had a few years left, true. He was not on his deathbed just yet. But he would need someone to carry on his dream, his vision...and he had the perfect candidate.


	3. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry this took so long!!! And I apologize for it not being longer. I'm trying to divide it all up as best I can. Anyway, please R&R!!! I don't know if this is how police investigations really go, but this is for the benefit of the plot and the order that events take place. There WILL be more John coming up soon, I promise!!**

**Once again, Amanda does not belong to me, and neither does Detective Tapp. They belong to Lionsgate, Twisted Pictures, James Wan, and Leigh Whannell. All writing belongs to me.**

TWO

The police station bustled around like it did every day. Overall the majority of officers were relaxed and had no trouble with their work. They had families, nice homes, a decent paycheck. They were happy. The atmosphere wasn't stressed, and everyone seemed to be having a good day. The doors burst open, and the secretary at the welcoming desk was chatting happily with one of her coworkers. She turned to greet the newcomer, but the words "hello, what can I do for you?" never left her lips. A young woman stood in the lobby of the police station, panting, blood smeared on her neck and around her mouth. Her eyes were glazed over with a hint of madness, her long dark brown hair was disheveled, and her stockinged feet were covered in dust and dirt from her run to the police station. But what frightened the woman the most was the incredible amount of blood on the woman's hands, arms, and face. It was only now starting to dry, and it looked as if it were fresh blood. "Can I...help you?" the woman managed to say.

"I need to talk to someone," Amanda said, her voice trembling. She was shaking all over. All she really wanted to do was go home and take a shower and pretend like this never happened, but she knew that the cops would need to know what happened to her. It was the only way she would get protection from Chris's friends. When they found out he was dead, they would stop at nothing to kill the person responsible for his death. She could feel tears of shame well up in her eyes, but she held them back. "Please...I...I just beat one of Jigsaw's games."

The receptionist's eyes widened, and she pushed back from her seat, rising. "I'll be right back," she said hastily, leaving her desk and going through a set of doors to the side that led to the police officer's individual offices and cubicles. She pushed through the people moving about, nodding in acknowledgement when people said hello, finally stopping in front of a closed door. She knocked on the door, and a muffled "Come in" gave her permission to enter. She opened the door, crossing to the desk where an older African American man sat, writing up a report. The newspaper articles on Jigsaw's latest victims as well as photos from the crime scenes adorned his desk. Many, many papers that ranged from interviews with the family members of those who had lost Jigsaw's games to theories and possible suspects of who Jigsaw could be were strewn across the desk as well.

"Detective Tapp?" The receptionist began, still unbelieving at what the young woman had told her. "I think you need to come to the front desk. There's a woman that I think you'd be very interested in talking to." Detective Tapp was in charge of the Jigsaw case, and the man was serious about his work.

Tapp put down the pen he had been writing with and looked up at the receptionist in slight annoyance. "This can wait, can't it?" He asked. "You know I don't like getting interrupted during my work, Margie."

Margie sighed in exasperation. "Oh, I think you'd really like this interruption, Tapp." She knew he was comfortable with using her first name - it was on her goddamn nametag for crying out loud - but she still referred to him in a professional manner. "This woman claims to have beaten one of Jigsaw's games."

"What?!" Tapp practically jumped out of his seat as soon as he heard it. "But that's fucking impossible! None of his victims have survived before!"

"She says she has, and I'm inclined to believe her. Her hands are bloody," Margie informed him. "And she's waiting at the front desk. I thought you'd like to talk to her."

"You _thought? _What the fuck, Margie? Take me to her right now, we're wasting fucking time standing here talking to each other." Detective Tapp headed towards the door as fast as he could, Margie close behind. Several people glanced at them curiously. "Out of my way!" Tapp barked. "There's a survivor of one of Jigsaw's games out there." The people within range of hearing immediately stopped talking, stunned at the statement. No one had ever won one of _those _games before. This was big.

Tapp let Margie get ahead of him as they neared the doors that led to the waiting area of the police station. She opened them, and Tapp felt his throat tighten at the sight of the young woman in the lobby. The other receptionist had gotten a washcloth and was wiping Amanda's hands, neck, and mouth clean of the blood. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. This was something he had never thought would happen. This was what he needed to help him with his investigation. A first-hand account of one of the most notorious serial killer's torture and games was what he needed to help his career not only move forward...but to help him catch the motherfucker as well.

"This is her?" He asked Margie as they approached the woman. He gave Amanda a quick look-over. Margie had said she believed this woman was a survivor, and he was inclined to believe the same thing. She looked scared half to death, as if she'd been to hell and back.

"Yes," Margie answered. "Miss, this is Detective Tapp. He'll listen to what you have to say and can help you." Margie and the other receptionist exchanged glances, receding back into the background behind their desks as the detective and the woman sized each other up.

"Come with me. I think it would be a good idea to talk about whatever it is you want to talk about someplace more private." Tapp gestured towards the doors and Amanda followed him timidly. As they passed through, everyone stopped what they were doing, staring at Amanda as if she were the strangest thing they had ever seen. Several women turned to each other and whispered, casting looks at Amanda. Amanda ignored all of it. Although her body was here, in the police station, following the policeman, her mind was still in that room with Chris's corpse. She still had that trap on her head. It was strange, as if she were two people all at the same time. She followed Tapp into his office, and he shut the door behind them.

"Have a seat," he instructed. Amanda glanced at the chair, checking to make sure there were no restraints, then stopped herself. She was in a police station. They wouldn't tie her to the chair. She sat in it shakily, and looked up at the detective as he sat across from her behind his desk, pulling out a sheet of paper and a pen. "My name is Detective Tapp. I'm in charge of the Jigsaw investigation," Tapp began. "I understand that you are claiming to have survived one of his games?"

"What?" She asked, her mind still in that foreboding room, the distorted voice of the tape echoing in her ears. "S-sorry..."

"It's okay," Tapp reassured her, used to the fragile condition of victims. "I asked you if it is true that you are claiming to have survived one of Jigsaw's torture games."

"Yes," Amanda whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming, her mouth feeling odd without the contraption on her head.

Tapp drummed his pen against the surface of the paper. "You _do _realize what this statement entails, do you not?" He gave her a sharp look.

Anger surged through Amanda as she met his gaze. He didn't believe her! She could see the skepticism in his eyes, and she ground her teeth in frustration. The blood rushed to her face as she glared at him from across the desk. "Yes, I do," she said again. "Do you think I'm making this up? What the fuck do you think I am? I wouldn't lie about this, goddamnit! I almost died a half an hour ago and you're accusing me of lying?" She said incredulously. "That's the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard!" "Whoa, calm down there, miss...?" Tapp waited a beat for the woman to give her name.

"Amanda. Amanda Young," she told him begrudgingly. He wrote her name down on the piece of paper. "I'm not lying! This really happened! You saw the blood on my hands, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," he answered, trying to soothe her. It would be easier to talk to her once she had calmed down. "You're right. No one would lie about something as serious as this."

"Thank you," Amanda said, satisfied at last, leaning back in her chair. The skin next to her lips was raw and sore. She reached up to touch it and winced. She would have to put some ice on it when she got home to ease the pain.

"Now, Amanda, before we can actually get an official testimony from you, we are going to have to take a look at the crime scene," Tapp began to tell her, leaning forward. "Do you remember where you were taken after you were abducted?"

Her brows furrowed as she tried to remember. Dirty floors, a couple of phospherescent lights, darkness, hallways..."It was some kind of abandoned warehouse," she said weakly. "On the west side of town, I think."

"Uh huh." More jotting on the paper. "Can you remember _which _warehouse? If we brought you to it, could you tell us if it was the one?"

"No. I'm sorry," Amanda apologized. "Everything's a bit...muffled. I wasn't exactly paying attention to where I was, if you get my drift. I had a fucking bear trap on my head; I could care less about which warehouse it was. I ran from there."

Tapp ignored Amanda's aggravated tone. He could understand why she was acting with such an attitude. She must've gone through hell and now all she wanted was to go home. Coming here was probably something done more out of what was expected of her than what she really wanted to do. "Okay. We'll do a check on the warehouses in that area, and see if we can find anything, okay?" She nodded. "All right. Now, I want you to look at these pictures." Tapp moved some papers to the side and pushed forward numerous photos of several suspects. "Do any of these men look familiar to you?"

Amanda leant forward to get a better look at the pictures. One of the men was balding, the other was a dashing man who looked to be about her age, and the last was a man wearing hospital scrubs and a doctor's coat. The blonde man looked slightly familiar, but..."Well, the doctor looks kind of familiar. But I think I was in the hospital he works at, once. Yes, I'm sure of it."

Tapp looked as if he were a little boy who had just gotten the box of toy soldiers he had been waiting for all year long to get at Christmas. He jotted a few more things down and nodded. "Right, right. Can you give me your contact information, please?" She gave him what information he needed, and he set his pen down, giving her a solemn look. "You've been through a lot today, I'm sure. I can only imagine what happened to you. We're going to find the crime scene, take some photos, check out some suspects, and then get your official testimony, okay? Everything will be fine. We've got this under control."

"...I won't get in trouble, will I?" She murmured, Chris' dead body still fresh in her mind. "I've already...no. I didn't mean to kill him, I really didn't. I was so scared and it was like I was someone else, and..." The words were out before she could stop them. "I won't get arrested, will I? Will I?"

"Who did you kill?" Tapp asked sharply, his senses tingling. "Who did you kill, Amanda?"

"...Christopher," she whispered. "I don't know his last name...he never told us, none of us. But I had to get the key and it was the only way out..." Her voice trailed off as she buried her head in her hands, tears flowing freely from her eyes.

"In a situation like this one," Tapp began, trying to be as reassuring as possible, "probably not. Now, I don't know the details of what happened to you, and I won't know them until we get your testimony, but for now, I'm asking you to try and forget about it as best as you can. Get settled back into your regular routine and your everyday life, okay? If you still have problems, there are numbers we can give you, places that you can go to for help and therapy."

"They'll kill me if they find out I did it," she whimpered, the fear rising again.

"No, they won't," Tapp said gently. "If you would like, we can send a squad of two cops to keep an eye on you for the next day or so, okay? Just to make sure that you're all right. Would you like that?" Amanda nodded. "Okay. Then I'll arrange that, and they can escort you home." He rose from his desk. "I'll be right back."

Tapp left the room, leaving Amanda alone with her thoughts. She wasn't too sure that she would be immune to any and all harm if two policemen were watching over her. She had been a part of this city's underground drug dealing for some time now. She knew how brutal things could get. She knew what people did to those that killed their allies and friends, the ones that kept the cops from sniffing around in places they shouldn't. But then...she didn't think anything a couple of pissed drug dealers could do were half as bad as what she had just gone through.

She shuddered. This would haunt her for the rest of her life, she knew it. She couldn't wait to go home, to just take a shower, and go to sleep and forget about what had happened for a few hours. It would be a most welcome release from the tension she was feeling at the moment. The door opened just as Amanda was beginning to daydream about a very nice warm bubblebath, interrupting her thoughts. She rose from her chair as Tapp gestured her to do so. "We have a squad car waiting for you outside. I'll bring you to it. They'll keep watch over your residence, taking into account any suspicious activity, all right? If anything comes up as far as our search goes, we'll contact you." He led her through the police station as he talked, passing the reception desk and pushing the front doors open so that Amanda found herself back in the bustling city once more. Sure enough, a police car sat patiently on the side of the street, waiting for its passenger. A man and a middle aged woman sat in the front seats, one looking down, absorbed in something, while the other tapped her fingers against the steering wheel of the car.

Tapp opened the door for Amanda, giving her a calm smile. "Remember, if anything happens, these two will be there to make sure nothing bad happens, okay?" She nodded dimly. "We'll keep you posted." With that final statement, Amanda climbed into the police car, Tapp closing the door behind her and tapping on the hood to signal the driver to go ahead. His dark eyes remained on the car as it began its progress, frowning. Something wasn't right about this situation. There was something Amanda wasn't telling him, and he was determined to find out what. _I'll pull up her file. See what I can find on Miss Amanda Young, _he thought, turning back into the police station.

* * *

They slowly joined the neverending flow of traffic, Amanda giving directions here and there. The two cops' names were George and Lydia. George had just graduated from the Academy, while Lydia had been working in the force for ten years and had two lovely daughters. They had told her this as she sat in the backseat of the car, musing about everything and nothing. This was the second time she had been in a police car, and she was grateful to be the victim this time around, and not the perpetrator. She was grateful to be alive, but that didn't stop the shaking. It didn't stop her from wanting to ask Lydia and George to come up with her when they dropped her off at the corner before her apartment building. They told her that they would be vigilant and keep an eye on the surrounding area, making sure she would be safe for the next week, in order to ensure her protection. Amanda thanked them, but she didn't feel any safer or better about what she had done than she had before. She climbed up the stairs to her apartment in a daze, ignoring the stares of some of the other tenants. She still felt as if she were in that warehouse, fighting for her life, and she wondered how long it would take for her to really truly leave that place.

It took her ten minutes before she realized she had been standing in front of her apartment door, just staring into blank space. Dark brown eyes blinked, and she slowly came back to herself, hovering between that warehouse and where she was now. Amanda shook her head, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead, trying to gain composure. Taking several deep breaths, she waited a few moments, and once she felt she could manage moving, she knelt down on her hands and knees and lifted the doormat in front of her door. The spare key laid there innocently, right where she left it. She grasped it tightly, her hand shaking more so than it had before. Getting to her feet shakily, Amanda unlocked her door, entering her silent apartment with dread and relief.

She shut the door behind her, setting the key down on a small chest of drawers that sat beside the door. Her apartment wasn't the best. Parts of the wallpaper were chipped, her bed wasn't in the best condition and quite squeaky, her carpet still had stains from the previous tenants, and the temperature in the place was haywire. One minute she'd be freezing her ass off and the next she'd be wanting to take off every single piece of clothing she had. But although the place wasn't in the best condition, she was grateful to see it, grateful to have a home to come back to. Running her hands through her hair, Amanda entered her room and stopped in her tracks. There, seated on her bedside table, were a folded clean pair of clothes, and her original copy of her apartment key seated on top, along with her wallet, which held money, credit and debit cards, and her I.D.'s.

Amanda swallowed. _Those weren't there yesterday...I had my wallet and keys on me yesterday. I always do. _She tried to remember what had happened the day before, but the memory was blurry and made no sense. Something with a pig and black hair and getting high. A sinking feeling entered her stomach as she glanced around uneasily. Someone had been there before her. But who? It took her another ten minutes to search her apartment top to bottom, checking to see if anyone was there, but there was nothing, not one clue. Whoever it had been arrived and left without a trace. She was tempted to call George and Lydia and tell them what happened, but her pride stopped her. _You're just being silly, _came the automatic reaction. With a heavy sigh, Amanda returned to her bedroom, placing her keys and wallet to the side, picking up the fresh clothes.

She took a hot shower, willing the water to wash away any remaining blood and the fear that seemed to stick to her like glue. She wondered if the police would find the place that she had woke up in. So far, the cops had been useless when it came to Jigsaw, and the fact that he had eluded the police force for so long only made the public uneasy and the press happy. Speaking of the press...Amanda frowned as she turned the faucet off, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a cotton towel around herself. _I hope the press doesn't find out about this, _she thought. The last thing she needed was more attention, and if the press released the details of her game, Chris' friends would _know _that she had killed him. If the police kept everything under wraps, she would be safe. If no one found out, she wouldn't wake up with a bullet in her head.

Wiping the condensation from the mirror, Amanda looked at herself. The woman staring back at her in the mirror was someone she had never seen before. Pale complexion, dark circles under her eyes, raw skin around her lips, and a deranged gleam to her brown eyes. Amanda blinked, turning away from the mirror, sighing. Another problem with the press would be that those who knew her would also know what she had been through. She certainly didn't want her parents calling from Salt Lake City and wanting to know if she was okay or not. She didn't want to hear anything from her parents. As far as friends went? She only had one very good friend, and wasn't out to start a pity party. She was mostly solitary, and that was how she liked it. Media attention and the sympathy and concern of others was not appealing to her.

Amanda put soothing lotion on the raw skin around her mouth, hung her towel up to dry, and crossed into her bedroom, opening her dresser drawers to pull out a pair of pajamas. She slipped them on, and climbed into bed, leaving the lights on. She knew that when she closed her eyes, one of two things would happen. She would either have nightmares about her experience and not get a wink of sleep at all, or she wouldn't even dream about anything, and could forget for a few hours. Regardless of what happened, she refused to turn her lights off. This made her feel a bit more safe. If anyone tried sneaking up on her, she wouldn't be taken by surprise. Yeah, her electric bill might be a bit high, but at least she'd know if Jigsaw or that damned puppet were in the shadows lurking, watching.

She was scared to sleep, but it came regardless, drawing her into its cold embrace, and to her delight, she dreamt of nothing, nothing at all.


	4. Chapter 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, here we are! Chapter Three! This fic would be a whole lot shorter if I allowed myself to segment it the way I want to, but I kind of want this to be a long one. I don't want any Eric Matthews' lovers coming in and bashing me, okay? I don't hate Eric...really. I just thought he was an idiotic jackass. XD ANYWAY. I hope that I've portrayed these characters well enough so as not to disappoint the fans. Please R&R, as always!!!**

**Again, Detective Tapp, Eric Matthews, Kerry, Michael, & Amanda belong to Lionsgate, Twisted Pictures, James Wan & Leigh Whannell.**

THREE

Snap! The whine of the camera pierced the crime scene with a deafening sense of purpose. Several police officers milled around the area, discussing the whole situation, while others had jobs in particular to do. Two police officers were examining the television screen in which Jigsaw's tape was being played back, one woman was bent over the chair in which Amanda had been restrained, and others were checking the surrounding area for any clue of Jigsaw himself. It was common knowledge that he liked to watch his games first-hand, and they knew that there would be some kind of opening, or _something _that would show that he had been present or at least watching.

The photographer took another picture of Christopher's dead body. He had been dead for almost a week now, and the effects were starting to show. Longer fingernails, his hair growing slightly, and the internal gas making him appear slightly bloated although his stomach was cut open. Some bugs had gotten to him before the police did, that was certain, and the smell of the corpse combined with the old musty abandoned scent of the warehouse was making everyone a bit nauseous. Tapp's partner, Detective Sing, had already had to leave the premises to get some fresh air. The photographer was doing his best not to breathe it in, and just take pictures.

It had taken them a week to find the right place, and, ironically, it was the smell that confirmed it. They knew they must have the right place; after all, you didn't just find a chair, television, and some dead guy with his entrails hanging out with a jigsaw puzzle piece carved into his skin in every abandoned warehouse you came across, did you? Tapp had gotten a team together immediately, and he could feel his excitement building as his crew worked. "Hey, Tapp," one of the people by the television called out. "Come here."

Tapp left the photographer's side to approach the man who had called him over. "What is it?" He asked.

"Take a look at this." The man pointed to a small lens attached to the top of the television. "See that? It's a camera. A very tiny one, but a camera nonetheless. Apparently the layout of this room wasn't good enough for him to actually be present, but he was watching from another location. We'll try to find the manufacturer and all that good stuff for you."

"Good." Tapp nodded in approval. "If there's one thing we can count on, it's that the sick bastard is a voyeur."

The man gave him a bitter smile. "Yeah. Oh, Kerry and Eric are here," he motioned to the three individuals who had just crossed the police tape. "You better go bring them up to par on things."

Tapp groaned, shaking his head. He didn't mind having Kerry show up - she had been one of the first people he had called to help him out with this - but Eric Matthews? He wasn't too sure he wanted _this _guy in on a Jigsaw case. He strode towards the trio, holding his hand out politely for Kerry and Eric to shake. "Kerry...Eric," Tapp greeted them. "And who's this guy?" He gestured to the young man behind them. He had olive skin, dark eyes and hair, and kept looking at the cops uneasily.

"Mike, this is Detective Tapp, head of the Jigsaw case." Eric gave Mike a look that clearly said he had better shake hands with the detective, or else. Mike reached out and shook the older detective's hand. "Hi," Mike said. "You can call me Mike, if you want, short for Michael."

Tapp nodded, giving the kid's hand an extra tight squeeze so as to let him know he wasn't fucking around, he was serious. "All right...Mike." He released the young man's hand and turned to Kerry. "All right, let me give you the lowdown. A few days ago, a young woman showed up at the police station with her hands all bloody saying that she had beaten one of Jigsaw's games."

Kerry, a middle age woman and thus full of good, common sense and intuition, gave Tapp a skeptical look. "What? Is that even possible?"

"That's what I said at first, too, but...you should've seen this girl, Kerry. She looked practically crazy and really out of it. Definitely a survivor of some sort of trauma. So I believed her, and..." Tapp swept his arm to indicate the room. "Here we are."

"This is a fucking shithole," Mike muttered under his breath. "I still don't see why I had to tag along with you on this one, Eric."

"Shut the fuck up," Eric growled. "You came because you had nothing better to do, remember? Now stop complaining."

"If anyone sees me with any cops, I'm going to -"

"I _said _to _stop complaining._" Eric's voice was hushed and deadly. "If you've got a fucking problem, then leave."

Kerry and Tapp were continuing on with their discussion, oblivious to this exchange. "This guy, Christopher, had his stomach cut open with the knife right there." Tapp had led Kerry to the corpse where the photographer was still taking pictures. "He's been dead for nearly a week, and a puzzle piece has been carved into his chest there." He indicated the spot. Straightening, he then led her over to the television. "Just before you came in, the guys found a small camera lens on the top of the television. He wasn't actually in the room - you can see by the layout it would have been impossible to do so without getting caught - but he _was _watching from somewhere else. The 'where' is what gets me, though. Everything else makes sense. But...where could the fucker have been?"

"Who knows?" Kerry shrugged. "I'm going to talk to Eric for a second, he seems upset." She left Tapp's side, her wavy brown hair tossing slightly as she walked back over to her three companions. "Look, we have work to do here. If you two want to go and bitch it out, then do it someplace else, but not here. Understand?" She gave Eric a stern look.

"Right," Eric murmured, reaching out to rub her shoulder. "Gotta love these sort of cases, huh?"

"Yeah...definitely my favorite. Now come on. We can do other things later." Kerry gave Eric a significant look and led the two men back to Detective Tapp. "Let's see the tape."

The officer who had found the camera reached down and pressed the PLAY button on the VCR attached to it. The three cops watched in silence, while Mike shifted uneasily, looking around. What kind of sick fuck would do something like this? What had happened here? How did that guy get his stomach cut open? He wanted to get out of the room, far away from the whole creepy situation, the distorted voice from the television, the creepy puppet, but the cops most of all. If any of his more roughened acquaintances saw him with these cops, he'd be screwed. He'd get shot before getting even a block away from this place.

"...Look around, Amanda. Know that I'm not lying..." The voice continued ominously.

"Wait. Hold on one second," Eric said, and the officer paused the tape. "What's this woman's name again?"

Tapp frowned. "Amanda Young. Looks to be in her mid-twenties."

Eric frowned for a moment, as if he were in deep thought, his eyes widening suddenly in realization. "Shit," Eric murmured, running a hand though his hair. Mike seemed to come out of his reverie at the mention of the woman's name.

"Did you guys say Amanda Young?" Mike asked, surprised. "You've got to be shitting me. She _survived _one of these things?"

Kerry looked from one man to the other, confused. "What's so significant about this Amanda girl, besides the fact that she beat one of Jigsaw's games?"

"I know her. Knew her, actually," Mike supplied. "She's a heroin addict. I've been with her when she's gotten high at a couple of raves and stuff before. Pretty addicted."

Tapp seized the young man's arm without warning. "You know this girl?"

"Y-yeah..." Mike continued, startled. "Why?"

Tapp dragged the young man over to where Chris' corpse lay on the ground. Mike covered his nose with his free arm, disgusted at the smell. Maggots and other insects were sifting through the dead man's intestines, a dried pool of blood surrounded him. "If you know Amanda Young, then can you tell me who this guy is?" Tapp demanded.

"What the fuck? This is disgusting; let me go!" Mike tried to free himself of the cop's grip.

"Who is this man?" Tapp snapped, grabbing Mike's jaw and forced him to look at the corpse. "Tell me who he is."

Mike swallowed, his eyes lingering on Chris' pale face. He couldn't believe that he had just seen this man only a few days ago. "...His name is Christopher. Was, Christopher, I should say. Christopher Schmidt. He...he was a drug dealer. Mostly dealt out heroin. He was Amanda's drug dealer."

Tapp released Mike roughly, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen from his pocket and jotting all of this down. "Do you know any of his other friends or family? I need all of the information you can give me."

"I arrested her." Eric ventured over to the two men. "Don't take out your desperation on Mike," Eric said. "I arrested her for drug possession. She was really high at the time, so she resisted, obviously. I ended up breaking her jaw with a flashlight in order to subdue her. She got put in the hospital until her jaw healed, and then the nurses ended up getting all of the shit that was in her due to the drugs out. She had one hell of a time battling withdrawal when she got put in jail. That's all I know."

"I'm pulling up her file," Tapp said, closing the cap on his pen and putting the notepad back in his coat pocket. "I think you and Mike better leave, Eric. This isn't your investigation." Eric nodded, and put his hand on Mike's arm.

"Fucking cops," Mike muttered under his breath, turning from Tapp and storming towards the nearest exit, Eric Matthews close behind. Eric ducked under the police tape, ready to follow Mike out into the daylight and the bustling city. It would be a welcome change from this dismal environment.

"Hey Eric!" Tapp called out. Matthews paused in his tracks and turned.

"What?"

"...Next time you come to a crime scene...don't bring your informant." Tapp folded his arms and gave him a somber look. "I'm serious. This case isn't something to take lightly, all right? The last thing I want is to get even more people involved in this than I should. Got it?"

Eric nodded, turning away, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. The whispered promise that Kerry gave him would get him through the rest of the work day. Detective Sing passed him in the hall and the two briefly exchanged glances. As soon as Eric was quite a ways down the hall and ready to turn the corner, Sing flipped him off, shaking his head and returning to the crime scene. He passed the police tape, and covered his mouth with one arm as he approached Tapp. God, he hated the smell of corpses. It made him sick.

"What the fuck was that asshole doing here?" Sing asked, his voice muffled.

"Oh, you mean Matthews?" Tapp wandered over to one of the walls, Sing following.

"Who else? The guy's a fucking jackass. What right does he have to be here anyway?" Sing coughed into his arm.

"Kerry brought him along," Tapp stated, as if that would explain everything, which it did.

"Ah. I see. I still don't understand what she sees in the guy," Sing muttered. "She could do so much better."

"What, like you?" Tapp gave his partner a wistful smile.

"Hell yeah! You know it, too. She'd be better off with me than that fucker."

"True. Come on; the coroner's here, I think, and we better finish up our work here." Tapp stopped Sing before he went to go and greet the coroner. "We're going to close this one, Sing. We're gonna show that fucker Jigsaw who's boss."

"What makes you so sure?" Sing gave him a weary look. Jigsaw scared the shit out of him. Yeah, he was a cop, and used to dealing with psychopaths, but this Jigsaw character was the most fucked up one he had had contact with so far.

"We've got our man, remember? We can get him to talk. On Wednesday, we'll fetch him from his sickeningly neat office and drag him out to the station to listen to the girl's testimony. He'll talk, and we'll have our man. All of this sick shit will stop for good. How does that sound?"

Sing grinned. "Sounds like one hell of a plan."

* * *

Amanda shifted in her seat uneasily. The office was small and crudely lit. A filing cabinet stood kitty-corner the desk, a type writer sitting upon it, untouched. A picture of her landlord's wife, children, and his oldest daughter's wedding hung on the wall behind him. She hated this office. It smelled of dirty socks, and it seemed to be a living example of an environment of someone who was living in a standstill for all of eternity. Their condition would never improve, and neither would their office. Their salary would always be something they wished was better, but would never be able to move forward, no matter how hard they try. Her landlord was certainly one of these individuals. It was obvious that he was discontent with his own life, despite the family life he had, and took out his anger on his tenants. For the past few days, her landlord had been taking his anger out on Amanda more than usual, mainly due to the fact that her rent was late.

"I've talked to you how many times?" He began to rant, glaring at her from behind his desk. "Your rent is overdue by nearly two weeks, Amanda. You can't avoid paying anymore. You need to pay it upfront by next week, or I'm calling the cops. Do you understand?"

Amanda drew herself up, taking a deep breath. "I've already told you, Mr. Duff, I don't have the money to pay you. I barely have enough to feed myself, for Christ's sake. For the billionth time, I was indisposed the other day, and I _have _been looking for another job-"

"I don't give a damn about why you were 'indisposed' or any of that other shit," Mr. Duff snapped. "Rules are rules, Amanda. I can't put this off anymore."

"...I'll do my best," she retorted. "I can't guarantee anything. It's kind of hard when you can't get a fucking job."

Mr. Duff ran a hand through his red hair. "Amanda, I know you have had problems with drugs in the past, and you've been in jail and all, but..." He straightened, rising from his seat to stand behind her. "You know, there _are _other ways that payment can be made..." He laid his hands on her shoulders, sliding them up her neck to draw close to her lips.

Amanda knew exactly what he was talking about. It was common knowledge that Mr. Duff treated his wife like shit. She had heard them arguing in the hallway before, had heard his wife crying in the hallways. She had heard him threaten to beat his wife, and badmouth her whether she was in the room or not. It disgusted her. As his fingers neared her lips, she suddenly found herself not in her landlord's office, but the chair from before, her wrists tied to the arms of said chair. Chris was unconscious in the corner, and that voice..._that voice. _

_"Hello, Amanda. You do not know me, but I know you. I want to play a game..." _

A game of survival. A game that she, and she alone, had beaten.

_"The device you are wearing is hooked into your upper and lower jaw. When the timer in the back goes off, your jaw will be permanently ripped open." _

Mr. Duff was touching her jaw, carressing it as if it were his most prized possession. She was not incredibly young, but not old either. She was a decent age, she was attractive in her own right. It would only make sense if she accepted his offer. Wouldn't it?

_"Think of it like a...reverse bear trap. Here, I'll show you." _

And he had. Jigsaw had shown her what would happen. He had shown her what direction her current life was taking her, what the only other outcome could be. Did she want that? No. She had proved that she didn't want to die, that she refused to fall into the same pit of miserable despair others had. She had been strong.

_"There is only one key to open the device. It is in the stomach of your dead cellmate." _

Christopher was dead. She had killed him with her own hands. He had been defenseless, just as she would have felt had her landlord asked her this same question only a week ago.

_"Look around, Amanda. Know that I'm not lying. Better hurry up. Live or die: make your choice."_

Jigsaw had not lied. He had been telling the truth. He had been truthful...he had not lied to her. And she had made her choice. She had chosen life, and was triumphant. She had come out of her test alive. Amanda was alive.

_"Congratulations. You are still alive. Most people are so ungrateful to be alive. But not you. Not anymore."_

_  
_She _was _grateful. So grateful to be alive...she could be a dead corpse in that room now, but no, she was here. She had been given a second chance, and how many people could say that they had been able to be given a second chance in anything at all? She wasn't going to screw this up. She wasn't going to throw her life away again.

"Well, Amanda? What do you say?" Mr. Duff murmured, his voice hushed, waiting expectantly. This young woman was desperate, and he was certain she would accept.

"Most people are so ungrateful to be alive..." She whispered, slowly coming back to herself.

"Hmm? What was that?"

Amanda took a deep breath. "...I said," she began, her voice louder this time, "fuck off. Fuck you and fuck your offer. I'm not going to get caught up in some shit with a bastard like you." She rose from her seat, and passed Mr. Duff, leaving his office and slamming the door shut behind her without looking back. His yells and threats drowned in the empty air, and she smiled to herself as she climbed the steps to her apartment. This was the first step to turning her life around. She wasn't going to take shit from a lowlife like that bastard. No, she deserved better. She was going to start over, start anew.


End file.
